


#40 - Texted The Wrong Person, But He Was Into It Anyway

by Raelynn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 50 reasons to have sherlolly sex, Bisexual Molly, Bisexual Sherlock, F/M, text conversations gone right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Been picking away at this one for a while, but it's finally done!</p>
            </blockquote>





	#40 - Texted The Wrong Person, But He Was Into It Anyway

Molly Hooper loved when she had two days off in a row. Her schedule at Bart’s jumped around all over the place, but she so rarely had two days off in a row. This week, however, it had worked out that she left work around 6pm on Tuesday, and she wasn’t due back until 3pm on Friday. Two and a HALF days, really.

Which is why she’d let herself sleep until almost noon on Wednesday, and at half two, was curled up in bed, still in her pajamas, playing a game on her phone and occasionally snacking on a bowl of grapes she’d retrieved from the kitchen when she’d got up to use the bathroom.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t going to stay there until Thursday, with the occasionally foray to the kitchen for food.

She was also exchanging a rather nice text message conversation with a potential suitor she’d met online. They’d been flirting in texts for about a week, and she was considering taking him up on his offer of a dinner date soon. 

So what are you up to today? -Christopher

Nothing, it’s glorious. I need more days off. -MH

Sounds great. I’m at work today and my boss is being a prat. -Christopher

Ugh -MH

Molly dropped the phone down onto the bed and picked up the remote, flipping through the channels and trying to find something to watch. Her phone dinged again, and she shrugged and turned off the TV. She did have a new book she was hoping to start, she could do that next.

What do you know about the decomposition rate in water temperatures below 40 degrees?

Molly did a double take before she realized the latest text was not from Christopher, but from Sherlock Holmes. She sighed.

Bodies will decompose very slowly in frigid water temperatures. Lake Superior, in the United States, is famous for bodies never floating up to the surface because they don’t fill up with decomp gasses like they normally would in more temperate water. -MH

Right, everyone knows that. I need some help with an experiment.

Molly rolled her eyes and texted him back that she was taking a pajama day and maybe tomorrow. Then she received another text from Christopher, and soon their conversation had taken a turn towards the naughty.

One of these days we’ll actually go on that date and won’t we have so much fun? -Christopher

Molly grinned and bit her lip, wondering how daring she was willing to be. Finally, she lifted her phone, taking a photo of her chest and torso, blankets artfully arranged across her. 

One of these days, maybe I’ll let you see my bedroom.

The conversation continued. Nothing too raunchy, but definitely more flirty than Molly usually was. In the middle of it, a text from Sherlock came in.

Well, if it’s your day off, then you should be available to help!

Molly read it, sighed, and went back to her conversation with Christopher. 

Maybe we’ve been beating around the bush too long, and I should just invite you to my bedroom now. Would you like that? -MH

Molly blushed, surprised she was able to be so forward, and dropped the phone back onto the bed and rummaged around in her nightstand for her book. Her phone buzzed with a new text, and she eyed it, embarrassed to open it up and see what Christopher had had to say.

A few minutes later another text came in, and then a minute after that, three more in succession. Curious, she picked up the phone, seeing from her notification screen that all five had come from Sherlock. She swiped, and opened up the conversation.

Well, now that you mention it, we have been sort of dancing around that subject for quite a few years now. Perhaps you’re right.

Do you want me to come over?

It occurs to me that perhaps that text wasn’t meant for me.  
Disregard my previous text.  
Oh, bollocks.

Molly stared at her phone, then scrolled up. With a growing horror, she realized what she’d done. She’d sent the text she meant to send Christopher to Sherlock. And he was...not horrified?

She scrolled back down and re-read his texts. While she was reading, another came up at the bottom of her screen.

I see you’ve read my texts. 

Yes. Did you mean it? -MH

A long delay. Molly stared at her phone in trepidation. She watched the three dots appear that showed that Sherlock was typing. He seemed to be typing for a very long time, but when the message arrived, it simply said.

Yes.

Molly scrunched up her face and thought. When Sherlock returned from his four minute exile, it was only briefly. She’d heard through the grapevine that Mycroft had insisted he go back into rehab, apparently while under arrest he’d managed to sweet talk a prison guard into bringing him some cocaine and morphine, and then while he was trying to figure out the Moriarty broadcasts, he’d overdosed in some attempt to use his Mind Palace in ways he didn’t normally.

He’d been back for a while now, and while he was still his usual self, she had noticed that he was a bit kinder toward her during their morgue interactions. And now he was saying...what? That they should have sex? That they should date? What did it all mean?

Her phone pinged again.

Stop overthinking it. -SH

Stop reading my mind. What are you suggesting, Sherlock? Spell it out for me. -MH

You invited me to see your bedroom, Molly. I don’t think it takes a genius to figure out what you intended to do once I was there. -SH

As you said, that text wasn’t directed at you, it was an accident. -MH

So you’re not inviting me? -SH

Molly could almost SEE the cheeky grin Sherlock must have had on his face when sending that text. 

It wasn’t directed at you, but I’m not saying it couldn’t be extended to you. The question is, what would it mean? Just a tumble? -MH  
Oh, I see. We’re going to talk about feelings first. If we must. Molly Hooper, you are intelligent, caring, giving, devastatingly attractive, and if I were to consider having a relationship of a romantic nature, you’re on the top of my list of candidates. -SH

Devastatingly? -MH

And then some. -SH

When can you be here? -MH

She wasn’t even surprised when she heard the knock on the front door of her flat.

She clambered out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown from the back of her bedroom door, and went out into the sitting room, opening the door. “That was quick.” she said, stepping aside so Sherlock could enter.

“I was in the neighborhood?” he said slowly.

Molly stared at him for a moment. “You are an exceptionally good liar. So when you lie badly, I know it’s because you don’t really want to. Where were you when you received that misdirected text?”

Sherlock refused to meet her eyes, choosing instead to remove his coat and lay it over the arm of her sofa. “Baker Street,” he mumbled.

Molly glanced up at the clock on her mantle. “You headed here the moment I sent that text.”

Was she imagining it, or was Sherlock blushing?

“Well, I waited in the cab until I was fairly sure you’d be amenable to my visit.”

Molly ran her hands through her hair, trying to gather her wits about her.

“So…” she said.

“Molly, I’m fairly sure I spelled out my feelings about you in text rather succinctly. You know that sort of thing is difficult for me, and I’d rather not do it again right now. I am not here for a one-off, I am not here out of boredom, I am not here out of pity. I am here because I’d been trying to figure out if you were still interested, despite the fact that once again, I let everyone in my life down because shooting a cocktail of drugs into my system seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He stopped to take a breath, finally meeting her eyes.

“And although that text was an accident, I’m fairly confident given the subsequent conversation, that you are, in fact, still interested, though I cannot fathom why on earth you would be.”

Molly stepped up to him, lifting up on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Because you’re worthy of love,” she said simply, before stepping back again.

She then looked him up and down. He return her stare.

“Are we really going to do this?” she asked, finally.

He nodded, but she could tell he had his hands clasped behind his back because they were shaking.

“Are you sure?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped around her, walking to her bedroom. “Have you ever known me to do anything I didn’t want to do?”

Molly considered this for a moment. “I suppose not.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Well, then?”

“My bedroom’s this way,” said Molly, finding her courage. She turned around and made her way back down the hall.

Sherlock followed her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, watching him.

Sherlock stared back for a moment, and then closed the distance between, them, pulling her into his arms for a blistering kiss. Molly moaned, and when her lips parted, Sherlock wasted no time in sliding his tongue between them. 

While they kissed, Sherlock slowly nudged her backwards until she felt the edge of her bed. Sherlock broke the kiss then, and looked down at her. “Are YOU sure,” he asked quietly. “I’ll never intentionally hurt you but I can’t promise I never will.”

Molly let go of Sherlock long enough to sit down on the bed and scoot over, then reached her hands out to him. He joined her, stretching out alongside her, their faces inches apart. “I know who you are,” she said simply, before wiggling an arm under him and wrapping the other one around his waist. She leaned back in, capturing his lips in another kiss.

The kiss broke just long enough for the two of them to start removing clothes, and soon the pathologist and the Consulting Detective were naked, Sherlock above her, one knee planted between her legs and his forearms holding him up on either side of her head.

He smiled down at her, and Molly thought her heart might burst. Before that could happen, however, he leaned down and captured one pert nipple between his lips, gently rolling his tongue across the end of it. He adjusted his balance and reached out to take the other breast in his hand.

“I apologize,” he murmured, opening his mouth to speak but not pulling away from her breast. “For every bad thing I ever said about your breasts. They are magnificent.”

Molly blushed, but Sherlock wasted no time in admonishing her for blushing. He began to trail kisses down her abdomen, stopping at her belly button. He placed kisses around it, then tilted his head to peer up at her. “It’s interesting. The belly button is just a result of fetal development, and yet I can’t help but think that yours is just so...cute.”

Molly giggled at this, and Sherlock gave her a hurt expression. “What?”

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s weird to hear you call anything cute.”

“Indeed,” he said, and then without further preamble, slid the rest of the way down Molly’s body, his fingers running gently down her slit. Molly squirmed, and Sherlock positioned himself, gently spreading her open. Molly shivered as she felt his breath on her. After a moment, one slender finger reached out, gathering wetness from the bottom to the top, before gently swirling around her clit. Molly groaned, her hips undulating, chasing after more. Sherlock bent his head, his tongue replacing his finger as he tasted and explored. After a few minutes of cataloging her reactions, he brought his fingers back, sliding one into her and licking and sucking in earnest. Molly’s hands flew to his head, groping at his head and moaning as she pushed herself harder into his face. “Yesssss,” she moaned.

Soon one finger became two, and Molly felt herself tipping over. Sherlock locked his lips around her clit and gave it one long, slow suck, and Molly’s world exploded. 

After, he continued to slowly finger-fuck her, leaving her clit to recover. She lifted her head and looked down at him, and their eyes met. He smiled a self-satisfied grin at her, and she laughed. “Get up here.”

Sherlock scrambled up to her, curling up against her. Molly leaned over and kissed him deep, her hands roaming down his sides and cupping his backside.

“I thought women didn’t like to taste themselves,” Sherlock said when the kiss broke.

“If I’m willing to taste another woman, it only makes sense that I’d be willing to taste myself,” said Molly, far more focused on how Sherlock wiggled when she had a handful of his backside.

“Other….oh. OH.” said Sherlock, realization dawning on him. “You, too?”

“Sounds like we’ve got some stories to share,” said Molly. “But I’ve got better uses for my mouth right now.” She gently pushed Sherlock over onto his back, and moved down between his legs.

Sherlock’s prick was half hard already, and Molly gently took it into her hand, stroking it softly a few times before she reached out with her tongue and licked the head. Sherlock shivered, and grabbed a couple of pillows to prop himself up. “Want to see,” he said in barely a whisper.

Molly nodded, then dipped her head again, sliding him into her mouth. She sucked and licked, her eyes never leaving his. Sherlock stared as her lips surrounded his cock, pulling and stroking as her tongue darted around inside her mouth, pressing and licking.

“I may have found a new addiction,” he mumbled. 

Molly smiled, and slid him out of her mouth with a pop. “Given the circumstances, this is probably a far healthier addiction. Goodness knows I approve if it.” 

She leaned over, fishing a box out of the nightstand. “So, position preference?”

“All of them,” said Sherlock grinning and taking the box from her. “But let’s start traditional, shall we?” He scooted over, and Molly laid down on the bed. Fishing the packet out of the box, he tossed the box onto the floor and pulled open the packet, sliding it onto his cock with ease. “I want to see your face when I make you come.”

“So convinced,” said Molly, grinning as he took his place between her legs.

“Fairly sure,” he said, slowly sliding himself into her. He had to stop once he was seated. Emotions and sensations flooded him, and he closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, trying to center himself. Molly, being Molly, reached out and took one of his hands in hers. 

“Take your time,” she said.

Sherlock opened his eyes, “It’s just been a while,” he said. “And it felt nothing like this.”

After a few moments he began to move, curling down on top of Molly and wrapping his arms around her. His thrusts were slow, and languid, and his kisses deep and hot. They spent a few moments just enjoying being in each other’s arms, enjoying their bodies together. Once Sherlock was a little more sure of himself, his pace quickened. Molly lifted her legs, easily wrapping them around his slim hips, and their lovemaking got more frantic. Sherlock reached between them, sliding a thumb over her clit, and Molly keened, feeling her orgasm building up inside her. She clutched at the bedsheets, moaning, and Sherlock fucked her hard through her orgasm. Feeling her constricting around him set off his own, and soon he had collapsed onto her, gently kissing and licking at her neck as they tried to catch their breath.

Later, after another round, and a couple of sandwiches they threw together in Molly’s kitchen, she picked up her phone. She laughed.

“What?”

“Christopher sent me a couple of texts wondering where I’d disappeared off to.”

“His loss,” said Sherlock, leaning over to kiss her. “I’m not good at sharing.”

“Good,” said Molly.


End file.
